


From me to you, you to me

by charcoalscenes



Series: I don't know man I didn't think I'd get this far [1]
Category: Yu-Gi-Oh! Zexal
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Fluff without Plot, M/M, Pining, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-23
Updated: 2020-12-23
Packaged: 2021-03-11 04:55:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,700
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28269474
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/charcoalscenes/pseuds/charcoalscenes
Summary: Ryouga might think of him before he sleeps at night. Ryouga might share matching accessories with him on a near daily basis. Ryouga might also be willing to dance with him. It's whatever. It's just Yuma.
Relationships: Kamishiro Ryouga/Tsukumo Yuuma
Series: I don't know man I didn't think I'd get this far [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2070978
Comments: 15
Kudos: 25





	1. Chapter 1

Their birthday is in the dead of Winter. No one likes this. By no one, Ryouga means himself. 

It’s cold, often snowing, and temperatures are sometimes below freezing. It isn’t optimal for inviting people to come all the way to where their mansion is. It’s even less optimal for a night out to town. The best way to celebrate anything in such conditions, Ryouga thinks, is quietly and peacefully, within the safe confines of one’s kitchen, hot drink warming his hands and heaters all in working condition.

Most people might say that Rio deals with it better. Most years, she hosts or joins little get-togethers, and every time, she’s dragged Ryouga along. He lets her because despite being marginally more antisocial than her, he gets it. It’s their birthday. It looks bad when he’s left by himself. So, he’s pulled from his room or from the sofa and Rio promises that her friends and her classmates are nice, and they are; but to Ryouga, they’re peers more than they’ve been comrades – all the more after Rio’s accident. All the more during his time under the influence of his first Number card and after. 

And then there’s Yuma. 

“Guess what he says.” Rio’s smile is too prim and pleasant when she teases. Ryouga feigns to ignore her, eyes resting on his notebook rather than at his sister idling by the doorway, noisily flapping Yuma’s recent postcard to ensure that her brother’s best efforts to block her out won’t work. 

As though he answered, she goes on, but it’s only to say what Ryouga already knows, given that Yuma’s announced it several times in the past year already. “He’s coming back in time for our birthday!” She cheers. “Isn’t that thoughtful? He seems so excited.” 

“Great.” Ryouga finally grunts back, turning a page. It’s an empty gesture. The previous page was blank. This page is blank. Frowning, he can only hope that she didn’t notice. 

It’s not that Rio making fun of him has ever been much of a problem, but he’s well versed enough in her expressions that he knows when she’s laughing at him, mocking him in her head. Right now, Rio beams, mocking him in her head. “He’s asking if we’re doing anything for it, and not to forget to invite him.” 

“We can do what we did last year.” He replies, quietly turning the page back. 

“We didn’t do much last year.” 

“It was nice.” It was also the start of Yuma’s rather threatening promises to not miss their next birthday, even though Ryouga nearly begged him not to feel guilty or make a big deal out of it. Yuma opted to go back-packing with Mirai then, and unlike this year’s trip with his father and sister, that trek had taken up the entirety of a Winter break and most of the first month of the new year to boot. 

Some birthdays have simply been dinners in, more so after he and Rio had somewhat unwittingly gained several housemates. Mizael and Vector have both been able to find places of their own, and Alit and Gilag too had rented for a year before moving back in, but the mansion has remained a hub not just for the former Barians, but even their friends from middle school by extension. Last year’s had been a successful night of gaming, food only a little overcooked, minimal conflicts, and Yuma shouting to be heard over a videochat. 

“You don’t need to scream you’re right in my ear!” It was the loudest Ryouga had spoken that night. “I have my Gazer on, idiot! You don’t see it?” 

“I mean, I’m just excited for your birthday too, you know?” 

“Yeah, I got that a little too loud and clear.” 

Now, Rio hums, thoughtful. “We can do another stay-in.” Though it sounds resigned. “I mean, he wasn’t here for the last one, so it could count as him making up for it.” 

“He doesn’t have to make up for anything.” Though he knows saying as much is a wasted effort when attempting to dodge not just their friends’ desire to do something for their ‘big day,’ but also Yuma’s overly affectionate enthusiasm on top of it. He sighs. “Anything else? I’m trying to study here. It’s kind of important.” 

“I wonder what our gifts are. Do you remember what he got for us last time? You still light yours up in your room?” 

“Yeah, yeah.” It was a souvenir on top of a late birthday present, two twin lamps for both of them in different tones of blue, Rio’s crystal more bright and icy, and Ryouga’s a deep enough navy to be almost black. While lighting up Rio’s could cast a room in a near-white light, Ryouga’s is a dimmer color, encasing his room in a dark glow reminiscent of water at night. 

“Moody.” Rio had described it. 

He does light it often. Out of the nightlights he’s collected over time, this past year, it’s become the one he uses most often. It is moody, heavy and calming. Sometimes, it’s surprising when Yuma can guess what he’d like; the guy usually acts like he never gets much of anything at all. 

But Yuma does get him. That’s often the last thought Ryouga has before his eyes fall shut and he drifts to sleep. He also knows that’s an issue, one he doesn’t think he’ll be up to facing any time soon, if at all. 


	2. Chapter 2

Yuma’s birthday, in contrast, takes place when the weather is what many people describe as perfect – crisp enough for a light jacket, no layers, the seasons in the midst of changing, each tree and shrub offering an array of scents transforming colors. The lucky bastard. 

He’d been in a mood last year, given that it was one of the longest phases of time that Astral has been absent and unable to make contact. Though it was never said outright, most of them could guess that Yuma had been quietly hoping that Astral could make an appearance in time for his birthday, but the emissary never showed. 

Ryouga’s convinced himself that Astral’s absence had a lot to do with why his present for Yuma had meant as much as it seems to, Yuma promising to repay Ryouga one day and, later on, deciding he’d do so through a return birthday gift. At the time, that’s all that seemed to be on Yuma’s mind. He’d received chocolates and candy, new games and antiques, and the bracelet Ryouga had given him was worn proudly on his wrist and hasn’t seemed to come off since that day last year. 

It’s a perfect match to the one Ryouga’s come to wear since he’d bought the set of two. 

At a discount last White Day, he’d bought it with Yuma in mind. The gem embedded on it shone bright and orange, almost molten, and beside it sat one almost identical save that its main feature was a crystal so sleekly blue that it’s almost white. Fully aware of what the intended purpose of the gift is, he’d gone through with it anyway, already opting to wear his own half of the set and kept Yuma’s in a box tucked in his closet until the time came to show it. 

Ryouga hadn’t pronounced that the two belonged together, but Yuma had caught on almost immediately. Any moroseness at Astral’s absence fled, and he’d held up his own wrist next to Ryouga’s to admire the both of them. Rio had hummed rather obnoxiously. Ryouga nearly lost it when both Vector and Kotori simultaneously decided to mimic the sound. 

He’d barely kept it together once he noticed Akari silently staring at him rather heavily. 

* * *

It doesn’t take a genius to suspect that the others have been up to something. It’s most obvious when Alit strongly insists that Ryouga not pass by the far western wing of the mansion. 

“And why not?” 

“That’s, ah, Mizael’s space. He’s doing some project, like weird DIY stuff he saw some videos of? You know how he gets. He’s trying something out; don’t interrupt him.” 

“What kind of DIY?” Ryouga clenches his teeth at his last memory of Mizael trying to use power tools. 

As though reading his thoughts, Alit quickly adds, “Oh, don’t worry, it’s just some light, ah, woodwork. He’s gotten better!” 

“He has to do _light woodwork_ inside _the house_?” 

“His landlord won’t let him do work on the roof or near the property! Said, uh, it’s too noisy.” 

“He didn’t think to ask the landlord _here?_ ” 

“Oh, please just let him have this! He came here so sad and no one really goes in there anyway!” 

“I wanted to get the cabinet I put there…” 

It’s a slight irritant at first, but later that day, when Alit hauls the furniture Ryouga mentioned by himself into the common area, Ryouga senses something going on. There’s no point in making a big deal out of it, though, and so he leaves them to it, only mentioning it to Rio the next time they’re alone. 

“Gilag and Durbe bought a ton of groceries and wouldn’t let me help them unpack.” She shares in return. “But I think I saw a bag of confetti.” 

“Eugh.” 

Rio smiles smugly enough that likely she’s deciding whether or not to act surprised when the time comes, too. 

When Ryouga wakes up on the actual day of the party, though, he doesn’t have to pretend. 

No one besides his sister has ever been in his room right when he wakes up, so regardless of how close he is with Durbe, he can’t say that seeing his housemate stand over his bed staring at him first thing in the morning is welcome or appreciated. 

“What the fuck.” He grumbles. 

Unperturbed, Durbe smiles easily. “Happy birthday.” In his hands, he holds up a large paper bag. “This is your first present of the day, from Mizael and I. It’s already close enough to lunchtime that I suppose we might as well get started.” 

“It’s my day off.” 

“It’s fortunate. Take your time. Not everyone’s arrived yet. And please consider wearing this.” 

“Wearing what?” 

“I’ll heat up your breakfast.” He places the bag beside the bed. “You won’t be bothered much in the kitchen. Rio’s been up and we’re just waiting on people to arrive in the common rooms. Gilag made your favorite.” 

“I’ll say thanks later.” Ryouga’s barely sat up, can’t manage to smile even if it can’t count as too early for it anymore, but he can at least relay in a murmur, “Thanks, Durbe.” 

“Of course. Any time.” 

Once the door shuts and leaves Ryouga alone again, he sifts through the bag. Not knowing how to respond to its contents, he nonetheless makes up his bed before laying down his new clothes over the smoothed out sheets. 

It’s almost formal looking enough that not everyone would opt to wear it on a grocery run. Ryouga would. But he gets that Durbe and Mizael are hoping to see him in this for the party first rather than the next milk run. The blazer’s material is light enough that it doesn’t seem stuffy, the entire ensemble dark toned with nearly black violets. The lightest colored thing in the bag is the long scarf that Ryouga immediately decides would go well as a sash for today. 

He freshens up and doesn’t make a big thing out of breakfast, putting the clothes on right away and grabbing a bite of Gilag’s treat from what Durbe prepped for him before placing it back in the fridge. He’d opted to sleep in and, in all likelihood, lunch is at the ready for when everyone else arrives soon anyway. 

The note beside his breakfast plate is written in Gilag’s quick scrawl, but even without the notice, Ryouga could’ve guessed to wander into the west wing. At that point, it’s only a matter of following the sounds of voices and light music. 

The scene past the open doorway has him pause. Various parts of the house had undergone some sort of renovation or other over the years, the danceroom included. It was eventually designated as storage and hasn’t changed even with the inclusion of new members to the home. Inching towards the doorway, he takes in the fixed lighting, the tall mirrors, the new paint, and board and batten walls. 

Near the center, a mix of new and refurbished cushioned seating enclose a round table, Alit and Rio speaking over food still wafting with warmth there, and Ryouga follows the scents to a long table he’d ignored for years, now clean and where Gilag and Vector are still chatting over how everything is displayed. 

“It’s fine, Gilag.” Vector says with the exasperation of someone who’s had to witness this scene for too long. “It’ll all be ruined soon, anyway.” 

“Yeah, but we have to make them _want_ to ruin it.” 

Mizael greets him first, walking up to him with a smirk. “Happy birthday. It looks good on you.” Mizael himself has dared to wear creamy white with accents of color. It’s then that Ryouga registers how everyone is dressed now, from stylish to semi-formal. 

“Thanks.” Then, part because Mizael’s standing straighter and taller than he’s used to seeing him, Ryouga remembers. “Hey, did you do all this?” 

“I had help. But yeah, it was me.” There it is. Mizael’s stance eases now that he’s gotten the recognition, following Ryouga’s eyes and staring at his handiwork. “It was a lot to work with, but honestly, I enjoyed it. Thanks for letting me play around with it.” 

“Thanks for asking.” Not that he can be mad about it. “It looks great.” He admits, earning a larger smile from his comrade. “You really did get better.” 

Mizael has always been quicker to frown, though. He blinks, his tone questioning. “Of course I got better.” 

“Birthday boy.” Vector greets loudly from where he stands, perhaps half as hopeful to end the situation he’s been in as Ryouga suddenly finds himself to be. “Finally decided to wake up. Let’s get your million-and-one year started.” 

Rio smiles at him from across the room. Spreading her arms and posing, she shows off a dress Ryouga’s never seen her wear before, a shapely number with a touch of tasteful frills by the end of her skirt, and he can only guess that she got it this morning as well. 

Durbe enters not long after, silent but not needing to announce the newcomers behind him, the group’s chatter and greetings loud enough for them to announce themselves. Rio falls into easy embraces with them, only a little awkward when Yuma lifts her off the ground, a pair of beratements from Todoroki and Tetsuo behind him, and Ryouga braces himself to be next. 

At his expense, Vector, still beside him, snickers quietly. “Get ready.” 

“Eugh.” 

“Happy birthday, Shark.” Kotori pushes the giftbag to her wrist before hugging him. 

Drink almost forgotten in one hand, he hugs her with the other. “Thanks for coming.” 

“Do you like how everything turned out?” She asks once she pulls back. Ryouga caught off guard at the question, she takes his silence to clarify, “I came by with Yuma sometimes to help plan the room.” 

“Yuma?” As far as Ryouga knows, Yuma and his family only returned yesterday. That he’s made good on his promise to be here makes Ryouga wonder if there could be any lingering jetlag. 

Kotori chuckles, sharing a look with Vector that hints he was in on everything at least as much as she was. Vector returns the look over his cup. “Video chat.” Kotori explains. 

“Shark!” 

“Oh, no.” In an inevitable finale to a reunion with Rio and the others, Ryouga hones in on Yuma coming towards him, and in a quiet show of solidarity, Vector takes Ryouga’s drink from his hand for safety. 

“Happy birthday!” The rare occurrence of Yuma wearing anything close to a dress shirt, accessories sewn in to look something like a necklace at his front, nearly escapes Ryouga. Yuma’s arms are wide and ready, wrapping around Ryouga’s waist and tugging him close, and up. “I missed you!” 

“No!” Ryouga keeps his feet planted on the ground by pure will, simultaneously hugging Yuma back and attempting to control his movements. “You are _not_ lifting me up!” 

“That’s okay!” He steps back, still holding onto Ryouga with one hand. “Wow, you look so handsome!” He turns to Vector as well as he says it, extending his arm in a gesture that’s either inclusive or an invitation for a group hug. Vector obviously chooses to take it as the former, winking at the compliment. 

“I guess that makes you pretty happy, huh?” Kotori pipes up, teasing. 

It’s a strange thing to say, and Ryouga expects Yuma to sputter and perhaps deny it, but instead he blushes and agrees. Ryouga stills, not knowing how to take that. 

While Ryouga and the rest of them haven’t seen the sun long enough that it shows, Yuma’s tanner from his travels, and, for better or worse, seems infinitely more refreshed than tired by it. It’s only with the preoccupation with food that he gives Vector the chance to talk to Ryouga out of his earshot again. “He came up with the idea of making this fancy.” 

“Huh?” Though he’s slow on the uptake on the surface, intuitively, he knows what Vector is saying, able to connect it to Yuma simply by the fact that he’d still been staring after him, not thinking to catch himself and stop. 

“The dress code, and the _ballroom_.” Vector waves a hand over the room. “I mean, makes sense, remodeling this place. I thought it was a waste, too.” 

“Yuma’s one of the last people to suggest anything fancy.” 

“People change.” Vector shrugs, and what can Ryouga say to that, coming out of no one else’s mouth but his. “Look at him. I could say someone picked his outfit for him, maybe, but it doesn’t look that way anymore, does it? It suits him too much.” 

He’s always been, on some level, in some form, intuitive. For a while now, it’s shown in newer ways, silently, in gifts and trinkets and in what photos he’s shared from his latest trip with which groupchat, and which were shared with Ryouga alone. 

“Yeah.” He says. “He looks good.” Then, remembering what it looks like to stare at someone else’s face and the way the material of his shirt clings to him, Ryouga turns, staring at Gilag’s cupcake collection, and the cake still hidden in a large box beside it. 

Vector, for what it’s worth, says nothing, and Ryouga doesn’t know how to respond to the thoughtfulness he sees there either. 

* * *

There’s a path to the balcony that Ryouga, on entering, sees that Mizael (with “some help”) remodeled as well, but the lights are off, and Ryouga keeps it that way. He’s been able to move through here in the dark before, and it’s even easier now that everything’s been moved to free up the original walkway. 

It makes sense not to include this area in today’s festivities. It’s cold. Recently, it snowed, and though most of it melted, Ryouga still sees patches of it from the balcony window, gray now that the sun’s set. Not quite as dark as it will be in just a few minutes more, Ryouga can see branches sway, none too gently. 

Everyone probably hung their coats by the nearest entryway before coming up here. Though he supposes that sans a snowstorm, maybe Winter birthdays aren’t too bad after all. 

“What’re you thinking about?” 

It’s just Yuma. He doesn’t turn the lights on either, able to move easily enough with what light is left coming from outside, past the glass. The decor over his chest shines softly once he’s close enough. 

“Well, someone didn’t give me a chance to start brooding.” In truth, he’d just wanted a breather, a break from the music, though he hasn’t gotten tired yet today. It isn’t just that he’d almost slept until noon, though that helps. More so, there are still times he feels as though he’s had his fill of people, even those close to him, but today hasn’t been one of those days. Over time, actually, he’s felt that way less and less. 

He’s never told anyone that. Ryouga sees both their reflections on the glass, and as though sensing the attention, Yuma’s shifts from the scenery to the same thing. 

“Your hair looks good tied up, too.” He tells Ryouga’s reflection. The blush isn’t clear there, but still, Ryouga almost wishes he wouldn’t just say that. “I always cut mine too short to do that.” 

“Yeah?” When Yuma turns to really look at him, Ryouga chooses to peer the opposite way, in the direction of the gate, recognizing Kaito and Haruto’s car first, Kotori’s after. 

Really, it shouldn’t matter if he does say things like that. It’s just Yuma. But Ryouga’s never been able to take those kinds of compliments, barely acknowledges any from Rio, but affection has always fallen so easily from Yuma’s lips, more than with anyone else he knows. It shouldn’t mean as much as Ryouga still makes it out to be. 

It’s subdued, but a new song drifts from the other room. They’re out of sight from this angle, but close enough that they can hear the occasional high laugh and cheers. If Yuma were still out there, Ryouga’s certain he’d be able to make out his voice most easily amongst the others. Because he’s loud, of course. That’s all. 

Ryouga finally turns, unwittingly, at the touch of Yuma’s hand lightly over his. 

“Dance with me?” He asks. Ryouga almost hates it when he’s as softly spoken as this. Ryouga would, more often in the past, bark and leave to get away from it, but Yuma still gave him moments like this, until bit by bit, Ryouga’s learned to live with it, sit with it, yet still feel unsure how to respond. Even now, he can't manage to say yes. But he doesn’t want to say no. 

“I said I can’t dance.” He opts for. 

“Rio said you dance really well. I’m the one who can’t dance.” Somehow, their hands have been pulled between them from Ryouga’s side. “So, if you’re really bad, I’m not gonna notice.” 

“You’ll notice.” His voice is steady while inside, he’s pounding. But Yuma’s smile isn’t expectant or eager, just easy, and it takes off any pressure Ryouga might’ve felt otherwise. 

He has to make it intentional – putting his other hand to Yuma’s side, light. Yuma beams, the sight of his lips and the glint of his eyes kicking Ryouga at his core. 

It’s nothing. It’s nothing. The song still has a beat, all of them have, but it flows more smoothly, the pace slow. A voice lilts with words muffled from here, but Ryouga recognizes the track, the singer fond and wistful over a far-off lover. 

Their dance would’ve been silly and awful if it were one of the more peppy choices, but Ryouga has to face this instead – Yuma’s hand on his shoulder, moving strangely close together, alone, swaying sideways and back in near darkness. As simple as they’re being now, though, Ryouga sees that Yuma wasn’t lying. “I lead.” He decides.

But even in that role, Ryouga can barely think, doesn’t consider that the drapes are wide open, that he at least has another layer on over his shirt (he isn’t cold at all), until he feels Yuma shiver, just once, and for a second, Ryouga blanks out on everything else, the feeling of Yuma doing that under his palms making him mindful of nothing but that, and then Yuma laughs. It sounds shy. “It’s cold.” He says, and steps closer. 

It’s for warmth. Ryouga knows this. “Yeah.” His voice isn’t as steady anymore, and Yuma looks up at the odd sound of it. He isn’t smiling anymore, but there’s still something there. With moonlight incoming, his eyes are still some semblance of bright. 

The song doesn’t end, but when another high laugh drifts from the party, Ryouga forces himself to latch onto the sound, snap out of it. It feels heavy, though, almost like waking up from a dream that’s followed him to waking, and his movements feel awkward, weighted. “Here.” He steps back, and taking his hands off Yuma feels wrong, somehow. Quickly, he takes off his own blazer, as though doing that faster would make having to stop them feel righter. 

“Oh, no, you don’t have to–” 

“I’m good. The shirt’s heavy.” He throws it over Yuma’s shoulders. A second of hesitation, and then Yuma gives him a grateful look, tugging his arms through the sleeves. Ryouga can’t feel easy looking at this, either, not without his mind getting ahead of him. He preoccupies himself with the drapes behind him, starting to tug one side close when Yuma stops him. “Don’t do that.” He whines, closing the distance that Ryouga’s tried to put between them again. “It’s too nice to cover up.” 

Wordlessly, he lets go. It’s still easier to look at Yuma through a reflection here than in the flesh, but it still strikes him, how Durbe and Mizael got his style right, how obvious it is that Yuma’s wearing Ryouga’s jacket, which shouldn’t be any more of a big deal than if he’d lent it to Rio or Kotori or anyone else if they were cold. It wouldn’t mean anything then. He catches the near-twin bracelets the two of them are still wearing, and assures himself that it doesn’t mean anything now. 

The song nearly ending, on its last chorus, Yuma reaches into his pants pocket. Ryouga already knows he’s decided to give his present now, when all the rest are either what Ryouga’s wearing already or sitting on the far end of the table, still bagged or wrapped. The presumptuousness of it doesn’t make it past Ryouga’s lips, because, in truth, he’s helplessly seeing the gesture as something else. It’s intimate. Yuma holds up a small box, sharp and black and unwrapped, and holds it up for Ryouga to take. 

Yuma’s just as unusually silent and Ryouga wonders if he himself is just as unusually pink. 

He takes it in his hands, opens it, and barely makes out the design of the two rings inside for how hard the hammering in his chest is, the blaring in his brain at the sight of them. 

“I didn’t think it’d match your outfit or anything.” Yuma laughs, nervous. “It’s a pretty nice coincidence. But you like wearing those colors a lot anyway, so I thought it was a good choice to go with.” 

Maybe he takes too long to move, because Yuma reaches inside the box for him, takes the one clearly meant for Ryouga, and waits. It’s clearer now, out of the box, though Ryouga almost wishes the lights were on so he could see it better. The band is meant to encircle his whole finger, its shape all around reminiscent of splashing water. Small stones sit in choice spots across the entire piece, glinting subtly enough that Ryouga wouldn’t have noticed if Yuma weren’t twirling it as though to display them. Still in the box, its counterpart follows the same shape, but colored bronze, its appearance looks closer to branches than water. 

He can’t let Yuma put it on him. It would be too much. The thought alone kicks him into moving again, taking the jewelry gently from Yuma’s hands. After a moment, one hand still holding the box, he slides it on his index finger. It’s a snug fit. 

He stomps out the consideration of how it might fit over any other finger, and wants to ask how Yuma knows his ring size in the first place, but decides he’ll ask later. For now, he hands Yuma back the other ring, and looking far too appreciative for his permission, Yuma takes it, places it over the same finger Ryouga has his. 

Ryouga doesn’t say, “We can’t keep doing this,” but the thought occurs to him. Yuma doesn’t know what any of this can mean, if anyone else other than the two of them were doing it. It’s only Yuma, who goes in for a hug far too easily and quickly, who’s always been first to share how much he cares for his friends, who doesn’t think anything of how jewelry can symbolize something else, especially if it’s gifted from someone else. If he doesn’t know, Ryouga should tell him. 

Yuma looks up at him from the rings, says, “I’m happy with how we turned out,” and wraps his arms around Ryouga again, the side of his face pressing on Ryouga’s over his shoulder. 

Ryouga hugs him back, mute. It’s just Yuma. It’s nothing. That’s the problem, if he’s honest. For him, this has never been nothing. 

They both pull away when the lights of the room turn on, blinking hard. He hadn’t realized how dark it got, both their eyes adjusted to the gradual lack of lighting. Eyelids squeezing before he experiments with blinking to gain his bearings again, he first sees Yuma in a similar state, rubbing his eyes only for Ryouga to reach up, pulling his wrist back down to stop the action. 

He lets go, placing the box in his own pocket when he hears Alit call, “Ah, so here you were! This part’s not finished yet.” 

“What are you doing in there,” Mizael calls from not far behind, sounding a little too self-conscious that anyone be in the area despite not even living here anymore. 

Yuma, still blinking, is the one who answers. “Shark’s teaching me how to dance.” 

“Oh. Thank goodness.” Alit answers, genuine. “You were really in need of something back there.” 

A sputter. “I was?” 

“I can help out! Let me guess, you’re a waltz kind of guy, right?” Alit asks Ryouga, teasing but more-or-less spot on. Behind him, Mizael trails in to investigate, and Ryouga knows more people are bound to follow. “I’ve been taking lessons too, you know. Different kinds of styles.” 

“I don’t know if freestyling in your bedroom counts as lessons.” Rio glides in, oddly giggly and latching familiarly onto Mizael, who can’t help but rock unsteadily in surprise. 

“With enough passion, you can learn anything self-taught! Tell Vector to turn up the volume!” 

“I’m right here.” 

“Tell Durbe to turn up the volume!” Alit corrects, but no one makes any move to do so, and so he follows the muffled rhythm from the next room, his hips and feet leading him closer to the pair by the balcony. Though no one rushes to tell him, he isn’t half-bad. Unprompted, Rio comes closer as well, joining in. 

Ryouga gets pulled into it by Rio, both her and Alit bobbing to the new beat, and soon enough, Yuma giggles alongside her, taking Alit’s hand in his own and completing a circle between him and Ryouga. 

The affection is given so readily, undemanding, from all of them. Somehow, it eases Ryouga into the mood of the room, and even though he barely makes any sort of movement besides having his feet follow the same direction everyone else is moving, he’s fully aware that he’s swaying more awkwardly than when it had just been him and Yuma in the room, and he manages to fit right in. 

“C’mon, Vector! Miza!” 

“What are you doing,” Mizael responds, while Vector downs the rest of the drink – then unceremoniously pushes the empty cup at Mizael’s chest. 

They break the circle, letting Vector into its center to spin with no rhythm, his hands waving up. Alit and Yuma take one of his hands each and have him dance between them. 

Mizael, his smile filled with spite, quietly takes out his Gazer and points it toward them. Kotori doesn’t say anything about that from behind, and neither does Ryouga, but the knowledge that they’re all being recorded makes him realize, suddenly, that he’s smiling, broad. He doesn’t bother to wipe it off for the camera. 

Briefly, he locks eyes with Yuma, and Yuma keeps laughing, Ryouga’s newest ring sitting assuredly on his finger. 

It wouldn’t make sense to anyone else, but no one would pay as much attention next to Alit’s cheers and Rio’s clapping anyway, and so Ryouga belatedly replies, just loud enough that Yuma can hear him. 

“Me, too.”


	3. Chapter 3

“Hmm. That’s new.” 

“Sort of. It’s been like a week now.” 

“I don’t pay attention to you that much.” Rio shrugs, and holds her hand palm up over the breakfast table. “Leme see?” 

“What?” Gilag asks from his seat, both he and Alit effectively curious too. Ryouga makes them all wait a moment more before begrudgingly placing his hand in his sister’s, letting her pull it closer to her face for inspection. 

“Oh, that’s pretty.” 

“Let me see?” 

“What is it? Where’d you get it?” 

Ryouga just lifts his drink to his lips, takes a long sip, then two, until the message is clear, and he thinks he’s almost out of the woods when Alit says, “Doesn’t Yuma have something like this?” 

“You got matching jewelry  _ again? _ ” Rio grounds out, her grip at once tighter, and Ryouga wisely stops sipping. “And neither of you guys  _ tell me? When? _ ” 

“It was the birthday, right?” 

“And his is brown, right?” 

“Thanks for the meal.” Ryouga mumbles over his last bite of food before standing, and, at least, no one makes to follow him. He takes his dishes to the sink, acutely aware that the others are now having a conversation among themselves about him with or without his input. 

It’s almost easy to ignore, but he ends up stumbling when Rio grounds out, “It’s a  _ ring _ .” 

“It’s a ring.” Alit agrees, and Ryouga can feel his eyes on his back, too. 

“He gave him a ring.” Gilag echoes. And it’s nothing, Ryouga wants to say. It’s Yuma. But it’s hard knowing even that statement could open a door to a rather dangerous conversation. So, he retreats. It’s just a ring. Yuma has one like it. It’s cute. And that’s all. 

It’s nothing.


End file.
